by Glynna Kaye
“Some are.” He studied the photos, then pointed to a stiffly composed group of people standing outside a cabin. “Like this one.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“These two are my great-great-grandparents. Harrison—he went by Duke—and Pearl Hunter. They came here on the cusp of the twentieth century. Acquired land in the very early 1900s. The youngster hanging on to the mangy-looking dog is my great-grandfather, Carson. And his sisters are next to him.”
“And what about these two?” Sunshine touched her finger lightly to the nonreflective glass, noting another man and a woman off to the side. “If I’m not mistaken, the woman looks to be Native American.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Those people lived on the property. Friends of the family.”
That was, if you could call a man who’d betrayed you a friend. Grady had intentionally placed this photo front and center in his office after Jasmine’s underhandedness. A reminder that, as also in the case of Aunt Char’s disloyalty, Hunters had to look out for Hunters first and foremost. Outsiders couldn’t be trusted.
“Do they have names?”
“Walter Royce and his wife, Flora.” Their monikers were emblazoned on his brain. “And yes, she’s Native American. White Mountain Apache.”
Sunshine stepped closer, her gaze more intent. Like his mom, she seemed enthralled with old-time photographs and the stories they held.
“That woven blanket draped over her arm... It’s such an interesting pattern. One I’d like to incorporate in one of my paintings.” She looked to him hopefully. “Would you mind if I took a picture of it?”
He shrugged. “Have at it.”
She eagerly slipped her cell phone from her purse and snapped a few shots. “Inspiration sometimes comes from directions you least expect, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so.” Actually, he knew so. How many times had his eyes been drawn to something because of the texture, the shadow, the sheer beauty of it and his fingers itched to reach for his camera? Like right now. With Sunshine’s dark eyes bright with excitement and natural light from the windows glinting off her glossy black hair and highlighting a soft cheek and the gentle curve of her lips.
“When do you think this photo was taken?”
“Judging from my great-grandfather’s age here, I’m guessing about 1906, 1907, maybe?”
A wistful look flickered in her eyes. “It must be wonderful to trace your family back this far. To know that these pine trees on the property shaded them as they do your family now. That every single day you’re walking where they walked.”
“Yeah, I guess it is remarkable.” Her enthusiasm was almost contagious, and he found himself smiling. “In fact, the original cabin in this picture and the one the Royces lived in are still on the property.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding. I’d love to see them sometime.”
While they weren’t rotting or anything like that—his family had seen to it that they were well maintained—they hadn’t been modernized. “They’re nothing fancy, you understand.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to be. But I’d love to see buildings that hold such history.”
“Well, then, sometime when you don’t have to rush off, I can arrange that.”
From the indecisive flicker in her eyes, for a moment he thought she might claim that getting back to the gallery was of minor importance and insist that now was as good a time as any for a tour. But when she merely uttered a thank-you, he determined the perceived wavering on her part must have been in his imagination.
Wishful thinking?
Unfortunately, that could only get him into trouble. He’d heard grumblings at a family breakfast meeting that morning about Sunshine’s earlier visit to the Hideaway. Uncle Doug warned that she might be snooping around for something to use against Grady’s mother in the upcoming election—although neither he nor Uncle “Mac” McCrae could come up with exactly what that might be. Aunt Suzy—Dad’s sister and Uncle Mac’s wife—reiterated that until more was known about her sister-in-law’s health status, everyone should keep silent about it with those outside the family. As political opponents, Sunshine Carston and Irvin Baydlin didn’t need to be alerted just yet.
Grandma Jo, fortunately, had put in a good word as to his “proactive” endeavors to soothe the ruffled feathers of the Artists’ Co-op members regarding the new Hunter business. But how would he explain escorting Sunshine around the property to see old family cabins?
“Grady?” Sunshine’s curious eyes met his, no doubt wondering where he’d mentally wandered off.
“Let me know when you’re available to take a look at the cabins, and I’ll check my schedule.” Maybe he could put her off for a while. With all there was to do at the Hideaway with the influx of hunters and with details of the new wild game supply store demanding his attention, he’d have an excuse to beg off if he needed one.
She moved to the door, then paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “Your mother wouldn’t happen to be around this afternoon, would she? I wanted to ask her about—”
“No, I’m afraid not. She’s out of town this week.”
“Oh? I’ll get in touch with her later, then.”
As Sunshine disappeared into the hallway, Grady again studied the old photograph of the original Hunter’s Hideaway. Remembered the deceit that had severed a friendship.
Was Sunshine’s request to talk to his mother an innocent one? Or had she somehow gotten wind of her opponent’s possible Achilles’ heel and today’s visit was nothing more than a fishing expedition to learn more?
Chapter Five
“I think I may have confirmed it, Tori.” Sunshine glanced at her friend Saturday morning. “Not only is ‘the ridge of the hunter’ likely the same as Hunter Ridge, but I may now have proof that my ancestors knew the Hunter family just as in the family legend.”
With satisfaction, she tapped the screen of her laptop computer, where she’d uploaded photos from her phone. They were the first images she’d ever seen of her legendary ancestors if, indeed, these two were her great-great-grandparents. When Grady pointed them out, named names she’d never before heard, it was all she could do not to topple over in amazement as the pieces fit together.
“A pioneer family named Hunter, can you believe it? Who not only lived in the area that one day would neighbor Hunter Ridge, but who were friends of another couple—an Anglo husband with an Apache wife. Identical to the family story related by my grandma.”
Had Grady noticed her excitement?
“You said her name was Flora?” Tori inspected one of the photos. “That doesn’t sound like an Indian name, but she does look like the full-blooded White Mountain Apache of family folklore, doesn’t she? I can see where your jet-black hair, dark eyes and beautiful warm complexion could have been inherited from her. Do you see any other family resemblance to either of them?”
“Flora’s build and facial structure is similar to my grandmother’s—Flora’s granddaughter—if indeed this is my ancestor. And Walter?” Sunshine frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“This is wild.” Tori stepped back, but her attention remained fixed on the screen. “I have to admit, I didn’t think there was any substance to those tall tales you told me.”
“Well, we don’t know for sure.” But something deep inside Sunshine bubbled up, telling her she was looking into the faces of those who’d come before her. “I never knew their names. But it’s not as if I’ve had some pristine lineage traced back to the Mayflower, you know. The family on Mom’s side has been fragmented. There was never an interest in documenting our ancestry. Grandma’s mother died when Grandma was a teen. That’s who she’d have gotten her information from, and Grandma’s grandma died before that. So even though my great-grandma knew her parents’ names, that wouldn’t necessarily have been passed down to
her own daughter.”
“Gets complicated, doesn’t it? I didn’t even know my own great-grandparents’ names until I did research.”
“It’s not as if my grandmother tried to verify any of this, either. I mean, the substance of the story she passed down was focused solely on the unfortunate fact that our ancestors were cheated out of property by someone they considered a friend.”
Tori crossed the room to lower herself onto the sofa. “Even if these two are related to you, that doesn’t mean there’s any truth to the core of that story. You know, that Hunters grabbed their land or anything.”
“No, but...” Stories had to start somewhere, didn’t they?
“So what’s next?”
Sunshine moved to a front window overlooking the road through town, then pushed aside a sheer curtain to watch the activity below. “Well, I guess I need to go online and see if those names can be verified on one of those genealogy websites.”
“You know it isn’t as easy as those TV shows depict, don’t you? I mean, they have professional genealogists who do months of background research. Then when the celebrity shows up with cameras rolling, they tap a few keys and pull up the proof as if they’d just discovered it.”
“I know, but it’s somewhere to start. I’ll begin with what I know about Mom and Grandma and work my way back.”
“People in the olden days didn’t always have birth certificates. And your Apache ancestor likely didn’t.”
“True.” Sunshine rested her forehead on the cool pane of glass, trying to better see what was going on below. Was that Grady Hunter hauling a box out of a navy blue SUV in front of the building next door?
“What are you looking at?”
“Oh, nothing.” Sunshine moved away from the window and sat down. “So has my family mystery intrigued you enough that you’re willing to help me? I know you have reservations about how the story involves the Hunters.”
“That’s the part that I’m most concerned about. But I’ve researched my own family and found it rewarding. So I’d be happy to do that for you while you’re seeing to the gallery, Co-op business and getting out to meet your future constituency.”
“You’re the best friend in the world, Tori.”
But when would Tori’s fiancé recognize the treasure he had in her? He hadn’t asked her to return the engagement ring, so that had to mean there was hope, didn’t it?
“It’s the least I can do, with you letting me stay here. I couldn’t stay in Jerome and risk bumping into Heath every time I turned around. Or having people ask me about him, probing to find out what’s going on with us when I don’t know myself.”
“Have you—” Sunshine paused, knowing this was sensitive territory “—considered breaking the engagement yourself? Provoking him into working through whatever it is that’s gotten into him?”
“I know it sounds stupid.” Tori looked down at the ring on her hand. “But I’m not ready to close the door yet. I love him.”
Ah, yes, love.
Sunshine had been there herself and couldn’t point fingers at her friend now. “Whatever happens—wedding or no wedding—know that I’m here for you.”
When Tori returned to her room, Sunshine again moved restlessly to the window. Yes, that was Grady down there, now talking with the man she knew to be his contractor.
He’d promised to show her those historic cabins, but they hadn’t firmed that up. The likelihood that she’d make new discoveries under those roofs to confirm her grandmother’s story was slim, but it would be worth a try.
She glanced down at her watch. She had thirty minutes until she had to unlock the gallery doors for another business day.
“Tessa?” she called, intending to see if she’d like to go on a walk, which would coincidentally lead past the renovation of the store next door.
But then she stopped herself.
That thinking—or rather not thinking—was exactly how she’d gotten tangled up with Tessa’s father. And this guy was a descendent of Duke Hunter.
* * *
Windshield wipers beating a steady rhythm, Grady applied the brakes as he rounded another wet curve on the way back from visiting his mother at the hospital Sunday evening. She’d had an adverse reaction to her medications a few days ago, but seemed to have stabilized and might soon come home. Then would begin the long haul of postsurgery physical therapy and chemotherapy treatments.
Man, he hated to see her go through that. Dad, too.
Please, God, heal Mom. We need her.
Now, halfway between Canyon Springs and Hunter Ridge, twilight had given over to darkness, and clouds from a late-season monsoon rain hung low. The days were rapidly growing shorter and summer was pretty much over as the nighttime temperatures dropped into the midforties. Elections would soon be upon them. Would Mom stick it out or withdraw from the race?
He lowered the volume of the country tune belting out of the stereo speakers. It was a mournful love song that, for some irritating reason, made him think of Sunshine.
He’d been relieved that after their conversation a few days ago, she’d made no further attempts to visit the Hideaway or to try to see his mother. Nor had she pressed him to show her the old family cabins that appeared to have captured her imagination when he’d mentioned them. So his family’s concerns that she had ulterior motives were unfounded.
Although he hadn’t forgotten that she did have a reputation for stirring things up—for championing the sometimes extremist views of the local artists—he couldn’t see her doing anything underhanded, such as using his mother’s illness to undermine her during the weeks preceding the election.
Then again, he’d not been that good of a judge of women in the past, had he?
Rounding another curve, his headlights sliced through the dark, and up ahead he spied the flashing emergency lights of a vehicle pulled off to the side of the road. Nasty night to have car trouble.
He slowed, but he’d no more than gotten up to it when he recognized the older-model, burgundy-colored SUV. He’d taken notice of it the day he’d stood on the Hideaway porch and watched it out of sight. Rusted out near a back wheel well, it also boasted a slightly bent bumper with a Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative sticker.
Sunshine.
Braking, he abruptly pulled off the rain slick road, then backed up until the rear bumper of his SUV almost kissed the front of the other vehicle. He couldn’t be sure with headlights lancing into his back window, but he thought he’d glimpsed someone in the front driver’s seat when he’d passed by.
He pulled up the hood of his windbreaker and climbed out, striding through the rain and glare of headlights to make his way to the driver’s side window.
“Grady?” a soft, familiar voice came through the partially rolled-down window.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It died on me. Like, it ran out of steam.”
“How long have you been out here?”
“Maybe half an hour or so. It doesn’t seem to be a battery problem, though. The lights are working. I’d have called for assistance, but for some reason I can’t get a signal on my cell phone.”
“We’ll deal with your car later. Why don’t you hop on out and I’ll give you a ride home.”
She shifted to look in the backseat. “Stop crying, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She had Tessa with her?
“This is our friend Grady,” she continued. “You remember him? Didn’t I tell you God would send someone to help us?”
He couldn’t catch the child’s response, but he heard another murmured reassurance from her mother before Sunshine faced him again. “I’m sorry. You’re getting soaked.”
“I won’t melt. Let’s get you both home. Do you have jackets?”
“Yes, and we’ll need to take
Tessa’s booster seat, too.”
“No problem.”
In no time at all, he transferred the ladies to his vehicle, secured Sunshine’s SUV, then set up reflectors to alert any passing traffic.
At last he climbed inside, his hair now plastered to his head and cold rain trickling down the back of his neck. But he hardly noticed.
“Everybody buckled in? Ready to roll?”
Upon hearing the happy affirmatives, he pulled on to the highway and headed toward Hunter Ridge.
“I can’t tell you, Grady—” Sunshine leaned in closer, her voice low, he assumed, to keep Tessa from hearing “—how relieved I was to see you. I had no idea who might have pulled up in front of us.”
Like Tessa, she’d been scared.
He cleared his throat. “God was watching out for you.”
“He was. Thank you.”
Grady gave her a reassuring smile, acutely aware of her grateful eyes on him as the windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm. When she settled back into her seat, drawing her jacket more closely around her, he flipped on the heater.
A weary sigh escaped her lips. “Believe it or not, I got that thing out of the shop right after Labor Day. Again. It’s costing me a small fortune.”
“Fairly old vehicle, isn’t it?”
“It was old when I bought it, but it’s always been reliable. And the four-wheel drive has come in handy since I moved to town.”
“Might be time to start looking for a replacement.”
“Fat chance.”
“If you’ll give me your keys when we get back to town, I’ll catch a ride with a tow truck and we’ll get your SUV to a repair shop.” There were several. He’d find out which one she’d been going to and determine if a switch was in order.
“Thanks. But I hate for you to go back out in this.”
“No biggie.”
“Mommy?” Tessa’s query carried from the backseat.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll fix you something as soon as we get home.”
